


Maladaptive Nightmares

by Lightning_Strikes_Twice



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Aleksander Morozova is his own warning, And Alina is not so happily married, CW: dub con, Canon Compliant, Choking, F/M, Mentions of Murder, The Darkling's back!, do I have to tag for cheating?, it's fine, king of scars spoilers, let Alina say fuck, mentions of Mal, post king of scars, sorry guys I just really hate Mal, spicy content ahead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25311358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightning_Strikes_Twice/pseuds/Lightning_Strikes_Twice
Summary: "You don't want me to go because you've dreamed of this. My hands, my mouth. You think no one knows your thoughts, Alina darling, but you have no idea how deep our connection goes. I've heard your desires. I know exactly what you want from me."A spicy little post KoS one-shot where the Darkling seeks Alina out after being resurrected and presents her with a proposition for getting her power back, as well as some much needed relief for her sexual frustration.
Relationships: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov
Comments: 31
Kudos: 179





	Maladaptive Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you to the lovely goodgreycious for her amazing beta-reader skills! Love you! 
> 
> Please check tags for content warnings. Enjoy! :)

She knows. 

Alina knows it’s happened when she wakes in the dead of night to the sound of her name in a voice she’d believed gone for good. 

She’d hoped she would have more time. Maybe a lifetime. She’d tried to ignore the signs. The earthquake, the bone bridge, the murmurs of strange and ancient energies waking up in Ravka once more. She’d prayed to Saints she knew turned their backs on her long ago that maybe just maybe the damage of a single knife could free her. 

The void where her power once lived had been churning and shuddering for months. Something lurked in the darkness there. With each new ‘miracle,’ it only grew more restless, more anxious, as if it knew. And it’s because of that feeling that she’s begun to wonder if a resurgence is coming, a resurrection. A day when the sunlight will once more respond to her call. 

But it’s not until she walks into the study one rainy afternoon and finds him with his feet propped on her desk smirking at her, grey eyes glowing in the low lamplight that she’s forced to confront the reality. If her power is stirring, there can be no light without darkness. 

The Darkling is alive. And he’s sought her out. Again. 

Alina eases the heavy wooden door shut behind her. She’s been waiting, and somehow, the waiting has been worse than actually seeing him here. Even just staring at him her pulse quickens. She does her best to ignore it, wills her voice to sound steady when she speaks. 

“Where are you really?” She doesn’t speak any louder than a whisper, ignores the way those grey eyes roam her body, smirk growing. There’s something off about him. 

She hasn’t stopped hearing this voice. And now she doesn’t quite know if it’s been her imagination or his actual presence in her mind for these three long years. 

Maybe it’s just time playing tricks on her. 

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve found my way back to Os Alta?” His voice makes the hair on her arms stand up. It’s the whisper of a coming storm, the soft sting of a knife leaving its sheath, the hitch of breath before a cry of release. 

Alina does not let herself shiver. She slowly makes her way across the room, as if approaching a cornered animal that may strike at any moment. Even though she knows in this situation, she is very much the cornered animal, and this predator likes to play with his prey. Her stomach flutters at the thought. 

“I should have known you couldn’t just stay dead.”

“Oh little Saint,” his smile only grows. Alina curses the heat that pools in her core at that smile. “You never actually wanted me dead. Just like you never intended to lose your power. To lose everything.”

The reminder stings, especially from his lips. No, she never intended this, never wanted this, but how dare he mock her in her own home? 

Alina sighs, annoyed. “Why are you here, Aleksander? I’m nothing now, remember?”

He cocks his head, smirk never leaving his lips. “You and I both know that’s not true. But maybe,” he stands, and it’s all Alina can do to hold her ground as he reaches for her, closing the distance between them. “Maybe you haven’t admitted that to yourself yet?”

Alina plants her hands on his chest, keeping him at arms’ length. There’s no rush of power at his touch, and the void within her aches at the emptiness. She shoves away the longing for the calm, reassuring feeling that only him being an amplifier could provide her. Shoves away the longing for her power so strong it aches like a physical wound. “I don’t have time for this. Get out. Go back to wherever you actually are and get out of my head.”

The smile on Aleksander’s face is nothing short of serpentine. “Three years and this is how you treat me? I’ll remind you that it was  _ you _ wielding the knife the last time we spoke. I was expecting a bit of a warmer welcome than this.”

Alina barks out a humorless laugh. “And why in the world would I give you any kind of warm welcome? I’m not exactly pleased to find you in my study.”

“Oh, but I think you are.” Aleksander spins her around so that her back is pressed to him, and Alina shudders as strong arms encircle her waist, keeping her pinned close to him. 

“Let me go,” Alina whispers, even as her very being sighs with relief. How many nights has she dreamed of these arms, this embrace?

His voice in her ear makes her shiver. He won’t kiss her, won’t touch his lips to her skin, and she hates that she craves that more than the fingers trailing up her thigh, dragging the hem of her skirt with them. She should stop him. She knows that the house is not empty, that all that separates them from the rest of its inhabitants is one measly door that she hadn’t even locked behind her. Knows that if she lets those treacherous hands trail much higher, she won’t be able to stop them, nor will she want to. 

“But this is what you’ve wanted, isn’t it?” She doesn’t know if he’s heard her thoughts, or is just making a frighteningly good guess. “Is it me you think about when he touches you?” 

Alina shakes her head. She doesn’t trust her voice when his fingers dip between her thighs, but at least she can still lie if she keeps silent. At least she thinks so, until her traitorous body arches closer at his touch, legs opening for him on their own accord. She whines as he drags a finger down her center, cheeks heating because she knows he can feel how wet she is even through the fabric there. She hates it. She loves it. She wants more. 

“You never were any good at lying, Alina.” 

He continues to stroke her with his fingers, and she can picture the smirk on his lips hovering just over the shell of her ear. Alina bites her lip against another whine. He wraps an arm around her waist to keep her body pressed flush to his, allowing her no escape. 

“Do you want me to go?” He slips his fingers into her panties and Alina gasps at the feeling of his fingers on her folds. Back and forth down her slick center, painfully slow, just enough pressure to make her jump when they pass over her clit. 

“I said,” he swirls his fingers, deliberate and focused. “Do you still want me to go?”

“No,” she gasps out. There’s no point in hiding the shake in her voice, not when her body responds so readily to him. “No, I don’t want you to go.”

“Of course you don’t.” Anger burns with desire at the satisfaction in his voice. She wants to smack the smile from his face almost as much as she wants him inside of her. Now. But he seems content to torture her, fingers stroking achingly slow, as he whispers in her ear. “You don’t want me to go because you’ve dreamed of this. My hands, my mouth. You think no one knows your thoughts, Alina darling, but you have no idea how deep our connection goes. I’ve heard your desires. I know exactly what you want from me.”

Alina squirms, eyes fluttering shut. How many nights had she dreamed her own fingers were his? How many times has she caught herself amid a daydream of soft lips and grey eyes? Had he heard it all? Seen it all? Were they still connected, even beyond death? 

Aleksander slips a finger into her and Alina bites her lip against a moan. It’s not real, she knows the body behind her is a figment of the connection between their power, what they once were. And yet she responds as if he was really there, holding her, stroking her, setting her skin on fire with his touch. 

“You know nothing of my desires.” The retort sounds weak to her own ears, breathless and needy. She doesn’t believe it any more than he does. 

He chuckles low in his chest and slips a second finger into her, the palm of his hand sliding over her clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of her. 

“I know it’s me you think of when he fucks you.”

Alina squeezes her eyes shut and lets her head fall back on his shoulder, not even bothering to argue. He’s right. Her cheeks burn with shame that he knows, but he’s right and there’s no point in fighting it now. 

Aleksander’s teeth graze the skin of her shoulder where her shirt has slipped down. It’s not a kiss, and there’s no tenderness in the touch. Instead, she’s reminded of the sting of the  _ nichevo’ya’s _ teeth as they pierced her skin years ago and left their scar. She’s reminded of the monster that lurks beneath his skin, the monster that she’s currently allowing to stroke and taunt her, the monster she’s been longing for. The monster she desperately needs to fuck her. 

“You told me once I could be merciful.” His fingers are anything but merciful. “Shall I be merciful and fulfill your desires?”

Alina does her best to scoff at his arrogance. “You’re offering to show mercy by  _ fucking me _ ?”

“Such a crude mouth,” he croons, not even bothering to sound ashamed at his intentions. 

“I am a married woman.” Alina despises the waver in her voice. He won the moment she let his hand beneath her skirt. She knows it, and worst of all, so does he. 

She can hear the smirk in his voice as he answers. “Yes, married so happily to your  _ otkazat’sya _ . Married to a boy who fears you, what you could become, who’s jealousy kept you from the greatness you were born for.” Alina bites her lip as Aleksander curls his fingers as he speaks, hitting just the right spot inside of her, as if furthering his point. “Married to a boy who can’t bring you to release unless you imagine someone else. Can you deny it, Alina?”

Eyes still shut, Alina merely shakes her head against his shoulder. No, she can’t deny it. But speaking it aloud seems too cruel. She’s tried, truly tried to lead a normal life. To be happy with the life she and Mal have built. 

But she can’t deny her darkest desires either. 

“So tell me. Shall I show mercy, or should I keep you like this until he comes home to find his wife needy and dripping, riding the fingers of a ghost he believes dead in his very home?”

Alina all but sobs in frustration. The heat pooling in her core is threatening to devour her whole, and she can feel herself nearing the delicious edge just from his fingers. 

“Because I will keep you like this, Alina. You don’t come unless it’s on my cock.” And with that he pulls his fingers from her, snatching away the release that was just within her grasp. 

Alina flushes deep and hot at the whine that leaves her throat at the loss of him. “Saints,  _ fine _ ! Aleksander,  _ please. _ ”

“Please what?” He’s enjoying this far too much, and she  _ hates _ him. Hates even more the pulse in her core when he nips at her ear. “If you’re going to beg, do it properly.”

She squares her shoulders and steadies her voice, and with all the dignity she can muster replies, “Please just fuck me already.” 

“Well when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?”

And with that he bends her forwards, so that she’s forced to brace herself on the heavy wooden desk in front of her. Organized stacks of paper fly, and an inkwell crashes to the side with the impact. Alina curses under her breath, but then her skirt is up around her waist and her panties are tugged down around her spread knees and he’s stroking his cock along her drenched folds and  _ oh. _

Alina chokes on a moan when he finally slides into her. Slow and purposeful, power and restraint simmering just under the surface. Like he’s a dam about to break and she’s about to bear the full force of the flood. She squirms her hips back into him, arching at the stretch, the fullness, the satisfaction of him finally,  _ finally _ inside of her. Even though he’s not really here, even with her power gone and a deep chasm inside of her, echoing, where it should be roaring to the surface, overwhelming and suffocating with his hands on her and his cock inside of her like this. 

He pulls back and thrusts in slow and deep and Alina moans in earnest. Her nails scratch and the wood of the desk in front of her, papers crumpling in her grip. Ink from the fallen inkwell runs through the grooves in the wood, a dark stain coating the surface, pooling between her fingers. She concentrates on it as her breath hitches with each thrust of Aleksander’s hips, how the darkness of it consumes everything in its path, unrelenting. 

“Does he know you dream of my cock inside you when he fucks you?” Aleksander purrs from behind her. “I know, Alina. I know it’s my face you see when you close your eyes, my hands you feel.” Alina concentrates on the ink, trying to force away memories of the nights she’s spent in Mal’s arms, faking moans and wishing for another. 

She loses focus when his fingers slip between her thighs and pick up where they left off circling her clit. She drops her head onto her arms, broken moans spilling from her lips.

“Do you actually love him, Alina? Or have you spent three years lying to yourself and to him that you’re happy? You and I both know this life is not what you were meant for, what you truly long for.”

Alina tries to respond, but her lie dies in her throat, replaced instead by a breathy sob. She grinds her hips back to meet his thrusts, body betraying her at every turn. She shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t be allowing this, and yet she thinks if he stops now she might actually die. 

Aleksander only laughs, leaning down and grabbing her chin, slipping two fingers into her open mouth as he does. Alina starts and tries to shove away from him, but he leans his body on hers, keeping her still so he can murmur in her ear, “Ssssshhhhh, we’re not alone in this big house. Can’t have them hearing you, now can we, pet?”

Alina squeezes her eyes shut as he thrusts harder, choking on moans and the fingers stroking her tongue. She hates her body for the heat pooling in her core, for the desire that prickles over her skin, even as she knows it’s wrong. She hates her body for sighing with relief and relaxing into his thrusts, sucking on his fingers until she drools, keening whines of pleasure caught deep in her throat.

She pushes away thoughts of Mal, of the ring on her finger, of the life she’s tried to build for the past three years, of the lie she’s tried to live. She can’t, she won’t, think about any of that right now, not when her heart races and her body  _ sings  _ and her every thought is consumed by  _ Aleksander, Aleksander, Aleksander _ with every thrust of him into her. 

The edges of her vision are starting to blur when he pulls out of her with no warning and spins her roughly in his arms. He shoves her back onto the desk, knocking the air from her lungs as she stares at him, stunned at the sudden change. He tugs her panties the rest of the way off, tosses them aside, wraps her legs around his waist, and slams back into her with a force that pulls a broken moan from her throat. Her back arches up off of the desk and she squeezes her eyes shut. 

“No,” his voice is rough, strained, and the smallest smile pulls at her lips in satisfaction. At least she’s not the only one losing composure. “Look at me.”

Alina shakes her head, eyes still closed, the building heat between her legs threatening to overtake her. She doesn’t want to look, to accept the reality of the man above her. The man she’s craved for so long. She doesn’t want to face the shame that the man taking her apart bit by bit is not the man she married. 

But her eyes fly open when his hand closes around her throat and he commands again, “Look. At. Me.” Each word punctuated with a snap of his hips.

Alina’s eyes widen at the fire burning in the grey eyes that meet hers. There’s vengeance there, new purpose, and power, such terrifying, depthless power. Alina wants to drown in it. She moans and her eyes roll back when his fingers tighten around her throat as he thrusts harder into her. 

“I want to watch you come undone. I want you to look at me when you do.”

She tries to respond, but can only gasp for breath. The edges of her vision blur again and she knows she’s so close to falling over the edge again. She can feel the spilled ink seeping into her shirt, staining her hair, her skin. A shadow slowly consuming her as she writhes in pleasure. 

Aleksander pins her thigh to the desk, pushing deeper into her. The new angle leaves her stretched and exposed and it’s all too much and Alina squirms and tries to scream. No sound leaves her lips, she can’t make a sound with his hand around her throat, so her mouth just hangs open in a desperate “O” as the world crumbles around her and she flies over the glorious edge he’s brought her to. Her body shakes and she tightens around him, pulling him with her, and her back arches of the feeling of him spilling inside of her, filling her with every final, possessive thrust. 

Aleksander pulls out of her slowly, and Alina has to bite back a whine of protest at the loss of contact. The fire still blazes in his grey eyes, and there’s a promise there, but of what, she’s not quite sure. 

Alina knows then she’s signed a deal. Knows she’s signed it in the sticky mix of the two of them coating her thighs, slick like the ink on the desk behind her. Knows it in the ache of her body, how even as she struggles to calm her racing heart, she’s already craving more. She’s not sure yet what she’s agreed to, but she knows there’s no turning back now from the man breathing hard above her, the man whose hand is slowly releasing her throat, allowing her deep gulps of air. 

She knows she’s not quite thinking straight, but as her body quivers through aftershocks, Alina is shocked to find that she isn’t afraid, she’s excited. The dark void where her power should be sparks ever so slightly, a fraction of the light she’d once commanded, but an ember of her power all the same.

And then he surprises her. Aleksander leans down and presses his lips to hers. It’s not exactly gentle, and it’s more of a claiming than anything, but it’s a kiss just the same, and Alina feels her body relax into him. A promise, a possibility. She tries to reach up and tangle her fingers in his soft, dark hair, but he breaks the kiss before she can pull him closer.

“You know what you need to do.” A flicker of the light she once knew shimmers deep within her at his suggestion. 

“What?” Alina still struggles to breathe as he whispers against her lips. 

Aleksander’s eyes flick to her throat and a slight smirk crawls across his lips. “Kill him. Mean it this time. Take your power back.” He takes her shaking hand in his and brushes his lips over the simple gold band around her finger. “And then come find me and rule as you were meant to.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving her a panting, wrecked mess, spread across her own desk, mind whirling at his words, thoughts hazy, cold at the loss of his touch. 

She knows she makes up her mind right then and there before her breath has fully returned to her. But it’s not until much later that night that she lets herself believe it. Not until after she suppresses a scream at her own reflection: ink blotches staining portions of her white hair and skin a deep midnight black, a pitch black handprint stamped across her throat. A promise and a challenge. Not until she sits in her tub, hours later, scrubbing ink away and watching it make cloudy shadows in the water around her does she allow herself to contemplate her decision. She was not meant for this. And she’s tired of being the one to sacrifice every time. If she can bring her power back, she will. By any means necessary. The void where her power used to be shimmers again at the promise of a return. Of what she knows she has to do. 

And she does know. This time, her intentions will be different. This time, she will not be the one to lose everything. This time, when her knife strikes true, she will wear the bones of Morozova’s final amplifier like jewels and become everything she was destined to be. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. I'm @lightning-strikes-twice on Tumblr, come say hi!


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